Edenbrooke

by Julianne Donaldson

  “Well, I have known Philip my entire life, and I can tell you what sort of man he is.” I looked up. “The very best kind,” she said, watching me carefully. “And he deserves the very best kind of lady for his wife. But I don’t think Cecily fits that description. Do you?”

  I looked at her sharply. Guilt for secretly agreeing with Rachel battled with loyalty within me. Loyalty won.

  “No, you’re mistaken. Cecily has some wonderful qualities. She is well-suited for the sort of elegant lifestyle Sir Philip can provide.”

  Rachel smiled kindly. “It’s obvious what you’re doing, and you are very noble to try to step out of the way for your sister. But she’s not the one Philip wants.”

  I regarded her in silence, wanting to believe her. But what if she was just meddling, like Lady Caroline? How could I dare allow myself to hope? My will battled with my heart, and I . . . I sat, stunned, with my heart begging me to hope.

  “Do you know what I think?” Rachel asked.

  I shook my head.

  She held up the letter from William. “I think that Philip has been just as miserable as you since he left, which leads me to believe that something has come between you two.”

  I touched my cheek, trying to smooth away my blush. “There was nothing to come between us. We have been friends. That is all.”

  She raised both eyebrows. “Philip does not look at you the way a man looks at his friend.”

  I looked away, embarrassed and miserable. “That’s just because he’s a flirt. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  “A flirt? Whatever gave you that idea?”

  I blinked in surprise. “I thought it was common knowledge. Miss Fairhurst led me to believe that everyone knew about his reputation.”

  Rachel looked astonished. “You believed Miss Fairhurst? Really, Marianne, I thought you had more sense than that.”

  I stared at her. “You mean, he’s not a flirt?”

  She looked at me for a long moment, as if debating what to say. “I won’t deny that many ladies have fallen in love with him, but I will tell you this: I have never seen Philip behave toward anyone the way he behaves toward you.”

  My thoughts spun as every assumption on which I had built my understanding of Philip dissolved. I looked at my hands in my lap and saw them trembling.

  “Rachel, I am willing to admit that I have been fooled, and confused, and very naïve. But if Philip did feel something for me, why didn’t he say anything?”

  She leaned toward me, speaking urgently. “Marianne, you must understand that Philip has a very strong sense of what it means to be a gentleman. And, according to his principles, he couldn’t court you, considering the circumstances.”

  I was confused. “What do you mean? What circumstances?”

  “You have been in a very vulnerable position, with your father far away and without another man to protect you. Philip took on a guardian’s role when he took you in as his guest. Indeed, he told your grandmother that he would act as your protector while you stayed here.

  “How could he declare himself while he was in that position of responsibility toward you? Don’t you see how his sense of honor as a gentleman would have prevented that, unless he was sure of your feelings? He wouldn’t take advantage of your vulnerability by declaring himself while you were so obligated to him.”

  I twisted my hands together while my thoughts reeled. Why had I never considered any of this? Probably for the same reason I had hidden my feelings for Philip from myself. I didn’t want to face what could potentially break my heart. And then there was the issue of Cecily’s feelings.

  “Of course,” Rachel said, “if he was certain of your feelings, he probably would have said something.”

  I laughed a little. “I wasn’t even certain of my feelings. And then there was the fact that Cecily had claimed him first.”

  Rachel nodded. “I thought as much. But if Philip had loved Cecily, or had even been interested in her, he would have courted her in London. So I think you can put aside that doubt. The real question is, what are you going to do to encourage Philip to declare himself to you?”

  My mouth fell open. “Do? What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything! I don’t even know how Philip feels about me.”

  Rachel scoffed. “Philip has been wearing his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. He obviously loves you. But everyone needs some encouragement, and I think you need to be prepared to offer some encouragement when Philip returns.”

  She left me after that, smiling as if she was very pleased with herself.

  Standing, I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. My thoughts tumbled furiously. Philip and William were at Newmarket at the horse races, not off carousing. I wondered how I could have misunderstood Rachel when we had first discussed the men’s trip. I couldn’t remember the exact words we had exchanged, but I had felt certain that I knew what she had been talking about.

  Words were such slippery things. I could take Rachel’s words and understand them in one way, and then look at them again from her perspective and understand them in a completely different way. The same thing had happened when I had listened to her read from William’s letter. I’d felt certain he was referring to Philip falling in love with a woman, not a horse.

  Was there something flawed about my thinking? Or had one wrong assumption led to another? Words alone were ambiguous, unreliable. But what could be reliable, if not words?

  I was so caught up in trying to understand how I had made my mistake in judgment that I almost overlooked a significant part of my conversation with Rachel. I had been right about Philip’s character. Rachel had confirmed what I had initially thought—that Philip was a gentleman and that he would not participate in the sorts of activities I had suspected him of.

  Perhaps I was right about something else, too. Perhaps I was right when I thought that Philip really did care for me, if only as a friend. Maybe—just maybe—I had misinterpreted what he had told William in the fencing room.

  Maybe he felt honor-bound not to declare himself while he was responsible for me and that’s why he said he wanted to be rid of his responsibility toward me. I turned from the thought. It was too much to hope for.

  As far as whether or not he was a flirt, I gave that some thought as well. It occurred to me that I had never seen Philip flirt with anyone besides me. He had certainly never flirted with Cecily, or Miss Grace. I had observed him at the ball, and he had not smiled at any other young lady the way he had smiled at me. He had never had that teasing gleam in his eyes when he looked at anyone else.

  I shook my head in wonder. It was possible. It was just possible that I had been mistaken before. I wanted to believe that I was mistaken now, and not just for my own sake. I desperately wanted to believe that I really knew Philip. I had fallen in love with the man I thought him to be, and I wanted to believe that man existed.

  My heart and mind battled until I could no longer think and rethink everything. I understood Philip’s love letter now, when he wrote about being driven to the edge of madness by love. I was at the edge of madness myself, and I had to do something to distract myself.

  I walked outside and made my way to the stable. I stepped inside Meg’s stall, picked up the currycomb, and began to groom her. I had always enjoyed grooming horses. There was something about the shushing sound of the brush against their coat, and the warmth of their flank against my hand, that soothed me.

  The repetitive action and quiet calm allowed me to ponder what Rachel had told me. I had no clear answers about Philip. But I had hope, and I was willing to wait and find out for myself what was true and what was false.

  A thought rose to the surface of my mind as I brushed Meg. I was not entirely unwanted here. Lady Caroline liked me—I was sure of it. And Rachel seemed to like me too. She went out of her way to talk to me and give me hope about Philip. And Cecily was a devoted sister. She wanted me here too.

  The joy that realization granted me was overwhelming. Lean
ing my head against Meg’s neck, I sniffed as tears of relief and happiness streamed down my cheeks. Then I laughed at myself, lifted my head, and wiped my cheeks. Surely I had cried enough in the past week to last a lifetime. I was turning into a watering pot, and that was unlike me.

  “So you’re a racehorse,” I said to Meg as I continued to brush her. “You should have told me. If I had known, I would have pushed you harder. We could have beaten that black horse of his.”

  She whinnied in response.

  Chapter 23

  William and Philip had told their mother that they would return in time for the ball she was hosting. But it was the day before the ball, and neither of them had made an appearance.

  That afternoon, I sat in the drawing room dutifully working on some embroidery while Cecily and Louisa played a duet on the pianoforte. From my position near the window, I was the first to notice the carriage pulling up the drive. I tried not to give in to the hope and excitement bounding through me, but I recognized the carriage. It was the same one Betsy and I had ridden in to come here.

  It was Philip’s carriage.

  He had come home, after all, just in time for the ball, just as he’d promised. My hand shook, causing me to make an uneven stitch. I set aside my embroidery and took a steadying breath. What would I say to Philip? How would I know his feelings for me? And could I dare to offer him some encouragement, as Rachel had suggested?

  I heard men’s voices outside the door; then the door opened and William walked in. He looked around the room and said something in greeting, but I hardly heard his words, I was so distracted by wanting to see Philip.

  Lady Caroline looked up from her writing desk, and Rachel crossed the room to her husband with a smile. Cecily and Louisa stopped playing the pianoforte. I craned my neck, trying to see beyond William. What was taking Philip so long?

  Then William asked, “Where is Philip?”

  I stared at him.

  “Philip?” Lady Caroline said. “Is he not with you?”

  William frowned and looked at me, then quickly looked away again. “No. He said he had something else he had to do. But I thought he would have returned by now.”

  We could give him no answers, as none of us knew that they had separated.

  William shrugged off the mystery, saying, “I daresay he’ll be home tomorrow. I think he planned on being back for the ball.”

  That he could dismiss Philip’s absence without telling us anything about where he might be or what he might be doing was completely unsatisfactory. William didn’t even offer any explanation as to why he looked at me and frowned. I worried that Philip had stayed away because he didn’t want to see me again. It was an unbearable thought.

  I left the drawing room and asked the butler to find Betsy for me and send her to my room. I was pacing back and forth in front of my fireplace when Betsy threw open the door and ran into the room.

  “What is it, miss?” she asked, out of breath.

  “I need you to find out where Sir Philip is, and why he did not return with his brother.”

  Her eyes lit up with a gleam of excitement mixed with determination. “If there is something to be learned, I will learn it, never fear, miss!” She flew out of the room.

  Less than half an hour had passed when the door opened and Betsy ran back into the room. I was accustomed to her dramatic entrances, so it didn’t alarm me.

  “What have you learned?” I asked.

  “Nobody knows where Sir Philip has gone, miss.” She pressed a hand to her chest as she panted, trying to catch her breath. “The coachman said that he left Newmarket four days ago. He said that Sir Philip was acting strangely, hardly paying any attention to the races, and after two days of it, Mr. Wyndham said to him, ‘I can’t bear any more of your moping. Go win her.’ And that’s when Sir Philip left, not saying anything about where he would go or what he would do.” She stared at me with wide eyes. “What do you think of it all?”

  I shook my head, dumbfounded. “I have no idea.” But I did know one thing. If Philip was going to win someone, I wanted it to be me.

  Later that morning, I left the house with my sketchbook and made my way to the orchard; I was restless with impatience to see Philip and I could not sit inside with the other ladies another moment. I couldn’t bear to listen to Cecily fretting about her plans for Philip to propose at the ball, and how they would be ruined if he did not return in time.

  I still didn’t know what I would say when I saw Philip again. But I had come to a conclusion: I would not run a different race simply because I was afraid of losing to Cecily. If Philip truly was the gentleman I thought him to be—and the one Rachel swore he was—then Cecily did not deserve him.

  Sitting with my back against the trunk of a tree, I sketched a cluster of apples hanging from a thick branch. Concentrating on my subject, I initially did not notice the sound of footsteps in the grass. But suddenly a flash of a dark coat from the corner of my eye caught my attention. My heart leaped. It was Philip. He had come home in time for the ball, just as he had promised. And he had found me here, in the orchard, because he knew me so well.

  What would I say to him? What would he say to me? I set aside my drawing and stood up, smoothing my skirt, then my hair. I didn’t need to pinch my cheeks, because my face was already warm with the nervousness that flooded me. He had to be nearby. I heard more rustling, and then I saw him emerge from the trees. I turned to him with a hesitant smile.

  My smile immediately faltered. “Mr. Beaufort,” I said, disappointment coloring my voice.

  He bowed. “Miss Daventry. You look so beautiful here, among the blossoms.”

  “What are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I had no patience for polite conversation right now.

  He walked toward me, smiling, and said, “I have come to change your mind.” He grabbed me around the waist, pulled me to him, and pressed his mouth against mine.

  I pulled my head back and pushed against his chest. “Unhand me at once!”

  I was no match for his strength, though. He only pulled me more tightly against him.

  “Listen to me carefully,” he whispered, his mouth too close to my face. “We are madly in love and we are going to run off together. By the time we’re discovered, your grandmother or father or whoever it is that cares about you will be happy to have me marry you. And then we will live very happily together on your fortune.”

  I froze. He knew about my inheritance? “Fortune?” I laughed. “There is no fortune.”

  His eyes glinted. “You think to make a fool of me? I know very well there is a fortune of forty thousand pounds waiting for you to inherit. My good uncle, Mr. Whittles, overheard your grandmother say as much while he was in her house.”

  I remembered the day my grandmother had told me about the inheritance, and how I had found Mr. Whittles outside the door.

  I shook my head. “It has not been made official. My grandmother will leave me nothing if you ruin my reputation.”

  He smiled. “I think she will. But there is no need to ruin your reputation. Just accept my offer. Think of the enticements, my dear. I will shower you with gifts, give you everything you want, even your freedom, as long as you allow me my freedom in return.”

  “You’ll give me everything I want with my own money?” I laughed at him. “You’re absurd.”

  His hand gripped my waist so tightly it hurt. “Do not speak to me like that.”

  I suddenly recognized that this was no game and that I was literally in the grip of an unscrupulous man.

  “You don’t need to do this,” I said, fear pounding with every beat of my heart. “My grandmother will give you money, like a ransom. You don’t need to take me anywhere.” I smiled at him, but his eyes stayed hard.

  “Whatever amount she offers, it cannot be more than your inheritance, and so I will have to reject that idea. Now. We are going to hold hands and run off to the carriage I have waiting down the road. If anyone sees us, they will believe we
are two young people desperately in love.”

  I shook my head. “You’re mad. I won’t go with you.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something gold, which he let slip through his fingers so that it dangled from a chain.

  I gasped. “My locket!” My thoughts went reeling as I tried to make sense of what was before me. “You were the highwayman? The one who shot my coachman?”

  He smiled and cold chills ran down my spine.

  “What did you do to James? Why did he leave the inn?”

  “Don’t worry about him. Once I learned from him exactly where you were going, I convinced him to leave the area and seek other employment. I thought it would be better if he wasn’t around to interfere with my plan. He was sensible.” He frowned. “Unlike you. I had hoped to convince you to marry me based on my own merits. But you were unable to appreciate what I had to offer. And so it has come to this.”

  He put the locket back into his pocket and then pulled something else out. “You remember this, do you not?”

  It was a pistol. I nodded my head, very carefully.

  He smiled. “Good.” He slipped the gun back into his pocket. “Now, let’s be off, my love!”

  He grabbed my hand and started to run through the orchard. I tried to pull my hand out of his grip and opened my mouth to scream. He stopped abruptly, clamped his hand over my mouth, and whispered, “It will be much simpler if you go along with the plan. You see, I have somebody waiting for you in the carriage, and I believe she is the one who shot at me last time. You do not want her to be hurt the way your coachman was hurt, do you?”

  He had Betsy. More than my own life depended on my actions right now. I carefully shook my head.

  He smiled. “I knew you would be able to see reason.” He pulled on my hand again, and this time I did not resist. Just beyond the orchard was a short path that cut through the woods. After several minutes, we emerged onto the road where a closed carriage stood, with the horses tied to a tree.

  Mr. Beaufort opened the carriage door and bowed. “I hope you have a comfortable journey.”